Prize Fight

I tried to roll with the punches
but they fell like a torrent of rain
trouble comes often in bunches,
life comes both with sorrow and pain.

God gives His grace to the weary.
Cold winds make oak trees grow strong.
One day we’ll see things more clearly
the rainbow comes after the storm.

A blow knocked me down to the canvas.
I almost stayed down for the count,
but then I remembered my Savior
in God’s word and on Calvary’s mount;

and suddenly my faith felt his power,
and from doubt and all fear I was free
“Get up, Trust Me now, do not cower,”
he said “My grace is sufficient for thee.”   -id







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